It's Time
by Tarafina
Summary: His head and heart disagreed often, but finally there was a point where they were in tune. :Scott/Rogue:


**Title**: It's Time  
**Category**: X Men: The Movie  
**Rating**: T  
**Genre**: Romance/Drama  
**Pairing**: Scott/Rogue, remembering Scott/Jean  
**Prompt**: Almost  
**Summary**: His head and heart disagreed often, but finally there was a point where they were in tune.

**_It's Time_**  
1/1

Seven years. He mourned her, dreamed of her, reached out across the bed for her, still. And he was fairly sure the worst part of it was that somewhere, Logan was doing the same. But he'd had her, right there, to hold and love and remember as strongly as though she'd been there only the day before. If he tried hard enough, he could still smell her perfume, still feel her lips, still hear her laughter.

But that was seven years ago and the images were fading, the laughter no longer quite as strong in his ears. Sometimes, when he thought to breathe her in, her perfume was mixed with another scent. This more feminine, almost flowery smell; a spicy southern sweetness that slipped in unannounced. There were moments where he closed his eyes, meant to rejuvenate himself with her laugh, and another would ring in his ears; more jubilant, more from the belly. It was when he found himself waking up with thoughts of another woman; of another small, curvy body next to him that he felt he'd crossed the line.

His ring remained on his finger, his heart he was sure was turned to the heavens, turned to his lost wife. But there were times when he couldn't stop his eyes from lingering, his lips from curving, his thoughts from wandering to an altogether different woman. An alive and beautiful and too sweet for her own good woman.

"What's on ya mind this mornin', Mista Summa's?" she wondered, flouncing into the kitchen with a shake to her hips that seemed incurable even in the earliest of hours.

He looked up from the endless black of his cup of coffee and startled slightly at the pink lips that turned up in a warm smile for him. Her hair was tousled, a steak of white that left its usual place across her eye to merge with the rest of her dark disarray of chestnut hair. He managed a tight-lipped smile, eyed the exits covertly behind his red tint glasses and wondered how quickly he could leave without seeming rude.

She reached past him for the coffee pot, her arm brushing his stomach; it turned acrobatic fits of exuberance at the tiny touch. He nearly lost the dry toast he'd eaten a few minutes earlier from the fluttering inside.

She lifted a brow at him curiously. "Yeh feelin' all right, sugah? Yer lookin' a lil' paler than usual?"

He wondered if it was just him, but sometimes her accent thickened around him in an all too sensual way. At twenty-five, she was no longer the young girl he'd first met and she'd grown into those big brown eyes and plump lips. He cleared his throat hastily before his eyes could wander down to her mouth and settle in for a long while.

"Just tired," he told her, his voice coming out a croaky rasp.

She nodded, looking down to her mug as she poured before tossing in two teaspoons of sugar and a small stream of cream. "You hear the twins down the hall gossipin' all night, too? I now know more about Billy James' big blue eyes than I ever needed to!" She laughed lightly. "

He cracked a smile. "He's the resident heartthrob, apparently."

"Mmm..." She sipped her coffee. "I bet you won that title when you were here."

He felt a flush creep up his neck. "Me?"

She smirked. "You were the bad boy 'round here before yeh met..." She trailed off and before he could be reminded of deep red hair, she added, "And the bad boys always catch the eye."

"Is that right?"

She nodded. "Keeping the motorcycle and leather jacket probably doesn't help yer good boy look now eitha," she told him with a wink before reaching up with gloved hands to pluck a piece of lint from his shirt.

His breath caught momentarily. "I don't ride as often anymore... I doubt most of the kids here even know I have a bike."

She chuckled softly. "Well if it ain't the bad boy edge, it's those high cheekbones of yours."

Despite having his eyes hidden, they were wide, and the lifting of his brows hitting his hairline gave him away.

"The ladies here are mutants, not blind." She shook her head. "And if they had half the thoughts I did when I showed up, you're gettin' yer own place in gossip history as we speak."

He swallowed tightly. "Well... Billy'll still get the date Friday night."

She grinned. "You could too if ya wanted one."

He stared at her, his mind blank for just a moment. "Are you asking?"

"Are you takin'?"

He swallowed, wishing away every thought that ran through his mind uselessly. "Rogue, I..."

She reached up, touching his cheek with a softness that was likely more the glove, but he couldn't help tying to her alone. "Sugah, it's a beer and a dance... There's nobody more innocent 'round here than me..."

His teeth clenched. "I highly doubt that."

Her eyes fell to half-mass. "These gloves and layers ain't here fo' decoration."

His eyes ran up and down her form quickly before returning to her eyes. "There's a way around any mutation, Rogue. You just have to be willing to look for it."

Her cheeks went cherry, a bright color against her fair skin. "And 'ahm sure you could. But until yer ready, ah'm only offering that beer and dance on a simple Friday night."

Her hand fell and he caught it rather instinctively. "Eight o'clock," he said before he could think too much. "I have an extra helmet."

Her grin brightened enough to make his own lips quirk up.

"It's a date, Mista Summa's."

He nearly corrected her in just calling him Scott, but part of him enjoyed how she said it and her next move served to remove him of all words.

She leaned forward, eyes lifting, catching his, and then her lips, soft and uncovered brushed his with an innocent warmth that turned a good portion of him to jellied goo. There was a spark, one his mind said was her power and his heart said was something far deeper. There was a split-second as her lips touched and left his where he _almost _fell in love with her right then and there. But as she stepped back, smiled her sweet lips in his direction and then turned to leave, coffee in hand and hips swaying, he figured a few Fridays, some dancing, and a couple more of those kisses and he'd be well on his way.

He stared down at the gold band on his finger and there was a wince in his heart. He loved Jean, always would. But... He had to move on and as much as it pained him to do it, he felt that tug telling him it was time. There was a sweet as sin southern belle waiting to help guide him out into the world he'd so ignored and while it was going to be difficult and he couldn't guarantee he'd come away unscathed, an X-Men was a risk taker and he fought for what he wanted and needed.

Jean was gone and he was there and while his heart hurt, the ache was dimming. There was spark, a tiny one that only recently lit, and given time, thought and hard work, he felt it could grow. So maybe for now he might need her echoing laugh a little less, he may not reach out for her each and every night, and when he took a deep breath it could just be the fresh air he inhaled and perhaps one day, it might not hurt to think of her.

Today he woke up thinking of her, wanting her, dreaming of her, and tomorrow, he hoped, he would be one step closer to letting her go. There was another he'd like to think of more, another he'd like to dream of, and one he hoped to reach out and hold in the days to come. One step today, another tomorrow, and he was getting closer and closer to moving on. Both his heart and his head agreed on that point.


End file.
